


That Uniform's Wasted On You

by Lothiriel84



Series: Running In The Family [1]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 02:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2092749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothiriel84/pseuds/Lothiriel84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...or is it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

In retrospect, Martin knew there had been something odd right from the start. Women always made a point of ignoring him, how likely was it that a charming young girl he’d never met before decided to talk him up in a bar?

To his credit, he even made a few half-hearted attempts to turn her down; she was about half his age, and too pert for her own good.

“I’m of age, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she retorted cheekily. “Do you want to see my ID?”

“I, hum, I didn’t –” he stammered incoherently, trailing off when she flashed him a grin he thought he knew from somewhere. He’d been alone for longer than he cared to remember, and she was the prettiest thing he’d happened to meet in years; he didn’t have a cat in hell’s chance, no matter how hard he tried.

The girl knew exactly what she wanted, his mind vaguely registered as she shut the door to her flat and pulled him in for a fierce kiss. After that, he stopped thinking altogether.

 

* * *

As it turned out, she loved aeroplanes. Her dad was an airline captain or something, and she was studying aerospace engineering at university; they had so much fun chatting over breakfast that he worked up the courage to ask for her number, which she scribbled on a napkin and handed him with a smirk.

He still felt vaguely uneasy about the age difference, only to completely forget about it when she suggested that they visited Duxford Air Museum together. This was too good to be true, as Martin learnt the hard way when he spotted a much too familiar picture inside her wallet.

“Is that your father?” he asked in a voice he barely recognised as his own. The flash of guilt that crossed her face was more eloquent than any answer, and he bolted for the door in something close enough to sheer panic.

 

* * *

Douglas was going to kill him, and he couldn’t blame him if he did. An idiot, that was what he had been; trust the Richardsons to make fun of the silly little pilot no one could ever take seriously, and Verity must have learnt a trick or two from her father.

He ignored her calls and text messages, hardly talked to his first officer at all. Of course he would put himself in such an awkward situation, that was the one thing he was good at; he couldn’t decide whether Douglas would be furious because he’d had a fling with his daughter or laugh at him for how he’d made a fool of himself, and if anything that only made it worse.

They were sharing a hotel room in Berlin when his friend announced they had to talk, and his heart sank to his toes. He couldn’t imagine anything else he’d rather not talk about at that moment in time.

 

* * *

“Go ahead,” he murmured resignedly, preparing himself for a colossal argument. Douglas, however, looked more uncertain than angry, and Martin furrowed his brow in confusion.

“My daughter’s love life is none of my business,” the first officer said tightly. “As is yours, for that matter. However, I strongly advise that you sort it out between the two of you before I feel compelled to step in. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” he replied without thinking, only to bite at his tongue when Douglas smirked at the form of address he’d just used. Damn all the Richardsons and their powers of persuasion, he muttered to himself as he left the room to make one crucial phone call.


	2. Chapter 2

Verity had always had a thing for redheads, never mind men in uniform; so it really came as no surprise that at the age of sixteen she’d had a secret crush on the ginger pilot that was her father’s captain. However, she was also a Richardson through and through, and that meant she wasn’t one to moon over someone she couldn’t have when there were plenty of attractive boys she could have fun with; she was one of the most popular girls at her school, and she enjoyed every second of it.

She was twenty when she first happened to meet Martin Crieff in person, though he had no idea who she actually was; he didn’t look quite as dashing as in the snapshot she’d stolen from her father ages ago, but there was something about his clumsiness that she found oddly appealing for some reason.

Curiosity got the better of her, and it didn’t take her much effort to get him exactly where she wanted him – out of his uniform and into her bed. It was sweet of him to be concerned about their age difference, even if she had a shrinking suspicion that out of the two of them he was the most inexperienced instead of the other way round; either way, she thought it better to omit the small detail about her parentage, lest he got into a panic at the implications of their liaison.

 

* * *

Her father raised a questioning eyebrow when she declined his invitation to her favourite restaurant. “Dare I ask who’s the lucky fellow this time around?” he enquired smoothly, though she could detect a hint of fatherly possessiveness behind his question.

“As if I would tell you,” she smirked pertly, cherishing the way he shook his head in a mock long-suffering gesture.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” her father recommended, only to immediately correct himself. “Actually, it’s probably better if you don’t do anything I would do.”

“Love you, Dad,” she kissed him lightly on the cheek, then hurried away to meet her not-quite boyfriend who was going to take her to Duxford.

 

* * *

Damn it, she thought as the front door closed on the very unhappy man that had just bolted from her flat. She hadn’t realised she cared so much, until Martin had accidentally discovered the truth about her father and recoiled as if she’d slapped him across the face; this was supposed to be a bit of harmless fun, not a way to gratuitously hurt each other – even more so now that she’d grown unexpectedly fond of the man and his fascination with aviation.

Of course he would feel betrayed by her silence, not to mention terribly uneasy at the thought he’d been sleeping with his friend’s daughter all along. Unfortunately, he was also stubborn enough to ignore her attempts to get in touch in order to explain her reasons, which meant she had to swallow her pride and seek the help of the one person who was actually able to fix this mess.

 

* * *

“Martin,” she breathed into the phone, feeling for once in her life decidedly at a loss for words. “Where are you?”

“Berlin,” was his nervous reply. “Look, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” she countered in disbelief. “Why should you be?”

There was a pause at the other end of the line. “I shouldn’t have walked away like that. It wasn’t like you lied to me or anything, and even if you had – well, it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“Why wouldn’t it?”

“I’m rubbish at this – relationships, I mean. I would have mucked it up even if you hadn’t been Douglas’ daughter, which you are, and he’s going to kill me if I do as much as touch a hair on your head.”

A grin hovered on her lips as she realised he’d just handed her the perfect reply on a silver platter. “You’re right, I am my father’s daughter. What does that tell you about getting everything the way I want it?”

“Come on,” he scoffed. “You can’t possibly want me of all things.”

“How much do you want to bet?” she teased him, and she knew she’d just won. Her father would be proud of her, even if a bit jealous of her new boyfriend.


	3. Chapter 3

It was common belief that there was just one person that truly mattered to Douglas Richardson, and that was Douglas Richardson himself. Such a simplistic view was fairly inaccurate though; there were at least two human beings he valued above himself, and those were quite obviously his daughters.

Verity and Emily barely knew each other – being half-sisters from different marriages, and having grown up with their respective mothers halfway across the country – but they were equally dear to him, and his biggest regret was that he got to spend so little time with them. His ex-wives used to tease him about his open adoration for the girls, and as a result he seldom mentioned their existence to strangers if only he could avoid it; they were his to dote upon, and to hell with the rest of the world.

Even if the rest of the world seemed to admire them quite a lot, especially the eldest who had turned into a charming young woman that was decidedly easy on the eyes.

 

* * *

 

He wouldn’t say he was jealous of his daughter; protective was more to the point, after three failed marriages he knew exactly how romantic partners could destroy each other under certain circumstances. As much as he boasted about his innumerable conquests, he wasn’t exactly pleased with the careless way Verity played with her suitors; she was bound to get hurt at some point, and that was the very last thing he wanted to happen to his precious girl.

Alarm bells started ringing as soon as she hinted at the fact that she was seeing someone quite older than she was; he couldn’t exactly cast stones about that either, given the fact that he had almost twenty years over his last ex-wife, and yet he couldn’t help himself from not-so-subtly enquiring about the whereabouts of the man in question.

“Relax, Dad,” the little tease laughed. “He’s not one of my teachers, I promise. And I’m quite sure the two of you would get along nicely.”

“Oh, you think so?” he replied with a faint note of sarcasm, which she candidly ignored the way she’d learnt from the master that he was.

 

* * *

 

If he had to choose between a revoltingly cheerful captain or a moping, monosyllabic one – well, he had a feeling he’d rather deal with Arthur under the influence of peach schnapps, if it ever came to that. Martin had looked uncharacteristically happy for the past few weeks, only to turn overnight into a depressingly blank state; he couldn’t wait for the flight to be over and done with, because he’d had more than enough of it.

He almost dreaded the layover in Berlin that was scheduled in two days; it was frustrating enough flying with a man who would accidentally win any game that implied speaking in words of one syllable, even without having to share a cheap motel room with him on top of that.

 

* * *

 

His first reaction when Verity came to seek his help on a rather personal matter was to phone one Captain Crieff and give him a piece of his mind. However, he knew his daughter well enough to understand that the lad wasn’t the one to blame; the idea of Martin seducing a much younger woman was frankly ridiculous, as opposed to the other way round, so he supposed he ought to keep his hair on and try to sort things out.

Dash it all, age difference and single-mindedness aside Martin Crieff was a decent man who would probably make for a good boyfriend if he ever managed to overcome his deeply ingrained self-consciousness; and since there was no accounting for taste, he decided he might as well give his daughter what she was looking for.

Their conversation in Berlin was the most awkward he’d ever shared with someone who wasn’t one of his ex-wives, though he was quite pleased that for once Martin seemed inclined to follow his lead without making any fuss whatsoever.

 

* * *

 

He sighed when he caught a glimpse of Martin’s battered van parked just around the corner, but he’d be damned if that was enough to stop him from knocking at his daughter’s door on the day of her birthday.

“Hi, Dad,” she greeted him with a kiss on his cheek. “It’s good to see you.”

“I bring presents,” he announced, giving a pointed look at the thing she was wearing – which was definitely not one of his captain’s shirts, especially not the one he’d been wearing at work the day before. “Though I daresay mine can’t compare with the one you have already – unwrapped.”

Verity laughed merrily as she put the kettle on. “Innuendo doesn’t suit you, I’m afraid.”

“Quite the opposite, my dear,” he pointed out matter-of-factly, though he couldn’t help but grin back.

And teasing suited him even better, as a blushing and stammering Martin discovered at his expenses when he eventually joined them downstairs for breakfast.


End file.
